


obsession

by Credamo, hopelessmiracle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Credamo/pseuds/Credamo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessmiracle/pseuds/hopelessmiracle
Summary: obsession [uh b-sesh-uh n] (n.) the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.





	1. Chapter 1

The first punch was in the jaw; strong and vigorous, making him wince. He was thrown back into the wall, his spine hitting the hard concrete material harshly and he felt a burst of pain starting from his back and slowly spreading out to the rest of his body. Still, he knew better than to let his emotions show. He had forced himself to believe that it was all a chemical defect. Tomorrow, there would be another bruise; raw and prominent on his pale and tender skin. Tomorrow, there would be another cut to cover up. Tomorrow, they would have to come up with more explanations and excuses. Lies, deception and hurt. This was something that he was used to.

 

He knew he would have to talk again the next morning. He would have to see the sweet smiles and hear the apologies. He would pretend to believe the other’s promises even though they had been broken time and time again. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. When will it end?

 

Right now no one cared.

 

The only thing that mattered right now was staying awake. He knew that any second now, the next blow would come and then, slipping away into unconsciousness would be much too easy. He could not show weakness or vulnerability or else the kicks and punches would become more perpetual. It was one of the first things he had learned. Most of the time, his emotions were nothing but a reason to get more violent. His tears were nothing but an encouragement to continue.

 

It had been no longer than a few seconds since the first punch, yet he already felt another. He could feel as his heart rate accelerated and his ears droned on with a high pitched noise, seemingly blocking out the shouting that was so clear just a moment ago.

 

The words didn’t hurt him anymore. They had stopped hurting a long time ago. They could never compare to the burn of heartbreak and the betrayal of someone he used to love so dearly. However, those times were long gone. Those wounds had mended themselves, leaving him feeling numb and indifferent. God, he was so naïve.

 

The pain had become all too familiar to him. Each blow evoked no response. He would not let the other have the satisfaction of witnessing his distress. There was a still expression on his face, a mask he had grown so used to.

 

He felt each and every one of the punches, yet he felt nothing. He could feel himself slowly drifting away. His body gave away as the blood rose up in his throat and covered the ground around him.

 

He felt small and unstable as he cowered in the corner of the room. He felt his breaths come out in an uneven rhythm and he started to blink rapidly, struggling to stay awake. Still, he was too weak, doomed to lose this fight with himself. He didn’t know how long he had struggled, trying to gather his strength and get up. He knew none of it truly mattered. No matter how much he fought back, the darkness would soon overcome his vision and cloud over his brain.

 

In his last few moments of consciousness, he slipped away into his mind palace and found the one thing that could calm him down.

 

Then, Sherlock saw black.


	2. two

The next thing he saw was light brown eyes, looking down upon him with an expression that could only be described as regret and sorrow. The next thing he felt was arms, wrapped softly around, pulling him closer and closer.

Sherlock’s eyes snapped wide open as he remembered the events of the previous night. Of course, it was nothing new to him, but he knew now that there would be apologies and ‘I love you’s’ exchanged between the two of them.

As soon as the other realized that Sherlock was awake, his face changed immediately. He looked calm and relaxed, extremely different to what Sherlock had seen a moment ago. His smile was small, his eyes looking down upon the once sleeping boy with something that now resembled care.

“Sleep some more,” he whispered, wrapping Sherlock in a warm blanket. “I’ll go. You just… relax.”

Then there was the sound of his footsteps followed by the door creaking, and after that, there was the silence. Sherlock opened his eyes again, looking around just to make sure that he in fact was alone.

Then he got up. Stretched. Reached out to grab for his phone on the bedside table all while ignoring the dull pain that was spread throughout his body. Sherlock checked the time and saw that it was already eight o’clock. Slowly, he decided to get up and face the day that he knew would drag on for ages.

As he walked into the bathroom, he looked cautiously into the mirror and sighed. Unfortunately, this was something he had to wake up to every week now. Waking up and checking over his injuries to make sure that nothing important had been seriously damaged.

It wasn’t as bad as most times. He had a bruise on his cheek and a few large ones on his chest that could be easily covered up. His lips were swollen and his nose was covered in blood as there had been no attempt to clean it off.

Sherlock reached out to grab the rubbing alcohol that lay on the counter and quickly began to clean his cuts, wincing in pain every so often. He continued until there was no more blood to make sure that the cuts wouldn’t get infected.

Now, he had to try and cover it up with makeup. He tugged lightly at the drawer that lay beside his hip and pulled out his foundation. With a familiar motion, he took off the lid and frowned, seeing that there wasn’t much left. He would have to buy more soon.

Skillfully, he covered his skin with foundation. Every bruise, every little cut that would’ve otherwise stood out on his extremely pale skin disappeared. He did this until he looked into the mirror and was completely satisfied.

Picking up his phone, he realized that he had multiple text messages sent to him from his family. He rolled his eyes before finally unlocking his phone and reading what they were saying.

\----

**_Mom_ **  
_Hi, Sherlock. Just checking up on you to make sure you’re okay and doing well :)_

**_Sherlock_ **  
_I’m doing fine. SH_

_\----_

**_Mycroft_ **  
_Brother dear. How’s you and your abusive boyfriend?_

**_Sherlock_ **  
_Don’t worry about me. I would much rather have him than you. SH_

_\----_

Sherlock frowned, reading the messages, and tossed his phone onto the bed. He sat down and steepled his hands under his chin, deep in thought. At this point in life, he wasn’t trying to hide his bitterness towards his family and the world in general anymore. He wasn’t afraid to say his honest opinion and be rude sometimes. At least it reflected who he was on the inside. The only person he was truly afraid of was his abusive boyfriend, Richard Brook.

“Sherlock, love, do you want to go out for coffee?”

Sherlock cringed at the sound of his hostile and deep voice and reluctantly stood up and called out a response.

“Yes. I’ll be down in a minute.”

He knew they would have to have a conversation soon, but he wanted to drag out the time in between it as much as possible. His feet slowly made their way out of Sherlock’s room and in no time at all, he was standing beside Richard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> So. Second chapter. We kinda procrastinated writing this one because we had a long weekend and we’re lazy asf. This chapter is still kinda v short. We’re still getting used to this fic in general and trying to improve our writing yknow. Don’t worry though we'll be updating more we are good people I swear :)
> 
> Until next time my frens,
> 
> Emma+Maria


	3. three

John Watson swung open the door to the coffee shop and walked in slowly. He was told to be here before opening time in order to learn the daily routine. This was his first real job ever since he got back from Afghanistan and it felt great knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about bills and rent anymore. Even the thought of being able to eat anything other than terrible takeout made him excited. He wouldn’t lie and say that he was not nervous-in fact, he was feeling exactly the opposite.

 

At the moment, he felt like exactly the kind of person who would ruin everything on the first day. He would probably do something dumb like trip over his own feet and knock over all the supplies. John knew he was an awkward person and there was no denying that.

 

After coming home from military services, he felt different. He felt as if all of his strength had been wiped out, as if something inside of him broke. He had no one to turn to. His sister, Harry, was disowned for being gay when he was only 18-something that his father took pride in, and something that disgusted John. Since then, it was ordered that all communication would be cut off between Harry and them and anyone who spoke of her would be kicked out as well.

 

Needless to say, after discovering that he was bisexual, going back home didn’t seem like an intelligent option. Just like that, after returning from military service, he was left on his own, lonely and isolated.

 

Of course he had friends, but the keyword was had. He had been in Afghanistan for a little less than a year and during that time, he had lost all contact with people that were close to him. He knew where they lived of course, but they didn’t know that he was back home again and he was too unstable to approach anyone. He didn’t want to burden other people with his own problems, didn’t want others to know how much he had changed.

 

Now, as he was standing being the counter in the coffee shop, he was trying very hard to look normal and approachable.

 

“Oh! John Watson? I’m Mike Stamford. I don’t know if you remember me from our last meeting?” his manager called, smiling warmly and walking over to shake his hand. From there, short introductions to the job followed.

 

“This job involves a lot of talking with people, that’s okay I hope?” asked the manager, a short male with brown hair and glasses that looked to be around the same age as himself. John nodded in agreement. He knew that jobs like this would pressure him to step outside of his comfort zone once again. This could be good though. He might be able to make some friends again. After all, it’s always nice to have someone to turn to in case something goes wrong.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he replied with a small smile.

 

After more explanations about how things worked around the shop, John was finally given an opportunity to take his first client.

 

“You should feel more confident at this point,” Mike said. John really didn’t, yet he didn’t dare speak up. After all, he didn’t have to memorize much. He was just working as the cashier.

 

He took his place behind the register just as people began to enter. It was mainly all workers as it was only six-thirty and not many people were awake.

 

John fell into routine quickly. All he had to do was greet the person, ask for their order and name and then give them their total. It was all quite repetitive. People filed in and out. It was all quite busy, with people constantly talking on their phones and preparing for a new day at work. The whole place was buzzing with noise.

 

At around eight, John could already say that he was getting a hang of his new job. People began coming in less frequently and all his co-workers were now conversing among themselves, gossiping quietly in a corner. John could only hear snippets of their conversation, something about some of their customers, somebody getting married, somebody going to jail.

 

“And Sherlock, have you seen Sherlock?” one of his new colleagues, Molly, asked in a quiet voice, her cheeks tinting slightly at the mention of the person’s name, as if afraid to bring them up.

 

“Not since the previous day. I still think that something is wrong with that boy,” said someone at the back. “I hope he’s alright.”

 

John couldn’t help but pay attention to their conversation and take interest in this particular topic. While he took orders from the few customers that seemed to drizzle in, he listened in on what they were saying.

 

“He should be here today with his boyfriend,” Mike mumbled quietly, making sure the people sitting at tables could not hear them, “They usually get here before nine.”

 

The conversation drawled out for a while longer. Everyone jumped from topic to topic until eventually, everyone silently dispersed and went back to doing their jobs.

 

The cafe was pretty much empty now. A few people sat in tables, drinking their coffee quietly while a few people had their laptops out and looked as if they were doing work.

 

John had only been at his job for around 2 hours and he could already tell he was going to enjoy this. The place was quite peaceful and not overly crowded like some of the other coffee shops he had been to. It was letting him feel as if his life was going to be alright, and for the first time in a long time he was feeling like he was getting back to normal.

 

John was jolted out of his thoughts as a mellow voice seemed to speak to him.

 

“Excuse me. We would liked to order please.” A man spoke. John took in his appearance. He looked to be a bit younger than John and was pretty handsome looking.

 

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” John responded quickly.

 

One of his co-workers walked swiftly by him and whispered into his ear, “The quiet one is Sherlock Holmes.”

 

Finally, he took notice of a taller boy standing next to the person that had just spoken. The boy he now knew to be Sherlock, the person his colleagues were talking about before, was incredibly pale with icy blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had been silent the entire time, looking everywhere but John. John could tell that Sherlock was just as unsociable as himself, if not more.

 

The man that has spoken previously ordered and turned to ask what Sherlock wanted. He responded softly and John immediately took notice of his deep baritone voice. It was different than any other he had heard before.

 

John took down their order quickly and looked up, asking for their names. The shorter man gave both of their names and went to find a table and sit down. The cups now read Richard and Sherlock.

 

John didn’t know why he took such an interest in these two people, especially Sherlock, but now he was standing beside the cashier register, wordlessly watching the pair. He would avert his vision every time he caught himself watching, but soon his eyes would snap back to them. They seemed to be deep in conversation and neither one seemed very happy.

 

“What do you think of him?” A small voice behind him spoke. He knew it was Molly based on her quiet voice, but it startled him just the same.

 

John whipped around, embarrassed to be caught watching them. “Who? Sherlock?”

 

Molly nodded. John shrugged quickly, spitting out an answer “I don’t know. He didn’t talk much.” She smiled, gazing over at Richard and Sherlock.

 

“I honestly feel like there’s something off about those two. I just can’t quite put my finger on it,” She laughed sheepishly. John returned the laugh and both of them turned back to what they were doing before.

 

Richard and Sherlock were called up to the counter to pick up their drinks and they both stood up, grabbed their drinks and sat back down. Their conversation seemed to pick up now. Richard looked quite angry and Sherlock looked as if he were about to cry. They were still talking in hushed whispers, as if trying not to disturb the rest of the shop.

 

John was watching their interaction out of the corner of his eye, slightly curious about what their argument was about. As time went on, the couple, however, seemed to be forgetting that they were in a public place, watched by many pairs of eyes. Richard seemed to be attacking, as if accusing Sherlock of something-to which the other man was responding weakly, not even trying to defend himself anymore.

 

This whole time, it was noticeable that the couple was arguing, yet when Richard loudly hit the table with his fist, everybody in the coffee shop jumped, surprised by the loud noise. With that, Richard took Sherlock by the wrist, roughly dragging him out of the cafe-and leaving the workers behind, curious as to what just happened.

 

They exchanged confused looks before returning to work in order to serve more customers as if nothing had happened. However, John knew that pretty much everybody had exactly the same thought on their mind.

 

What exactly is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so we’re a bit late on updating because of maria. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> We tried making this chapter a bit longer so. I said we should go for at least 2000 words, but we only managed 1500 because maria is a slacker. Sorryy
> 
>  
> 
> Emma+Maria

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Hey so my friend and I decided that we wanted to write something so apparently we're writing johnlock fanfiction now ;)
> 
> This chapters really short because its the introduction but I promise they will be way longer in the upcoming chapters
> 
> We don't currently have an updating schedule but we will try to update at least once or twice a week
> 
> Thank you for reading :)) it would also be great if you all could leave some feedback in the comments. 
> 
> Byee♡,
> 
> Emma+Maria


End file.
